


Bent to his every whim

by sepherim_ml



Series: Supernatural Bible 'verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Boyking!Sam, Consort!Dean, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Gown, Incest, M/M, Mentions of past mpreg, Mpreg, Submissive/Bottom Dean, Taste as an erotic element, Wincest - Freeform, bottom!Dean, evil!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepherim_ml/pseuds/sepherim_ml
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruling Hell can be frustrating, luckily Sam can count on his Consort to relieve the tension. Stand alone for the Supernatural Bible 'Verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bent to his every whim

**Pairings:** Boyking!Sam/Consort!Dean  
 **Warnings** : blowjob, evil!Sam (but not towards Dean) as in Boyking Sam/King of Hell, wincest, deepthroating, mentions of past mpreg, bloodplay, mentions of torture (not sexual, not between Sam and Dean), established relationship.  
  
 **A/N** : Thanks so much to the lovely [](http://daevanna.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://daevanna.livejournal.com/) **daevanna**  for the betaing <3 She's such a sweetie! *snuggles*  
This is a fill to [this prompt](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/63992.html?thread=20327160#t20327160) at [](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/profile)[ **spnkink_meme**](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/)  and I really need to stay away from that cruel place 'cause I'll fill everything there if someone doesn't stop me! This also fills out of my ['taste as an erotic element'](http://sepherim-ml.livejournal.com/50961.html) square at my [](http://homebrewbingo.livejournal.com/profile)[ **homebrewbingo**](http://homebrewbingo.livejournal.com/). This is stand alone, part of my [Supernatural Bible](http://mstrssl-fanfic.livejournal.com/25332.html) 'Verse based loosely on **'Samson and Delilah'**.  
  
  


 

_History books forgot about us_  
and the Bible didn't mention us  
and the Bible didn't mention us  
not even once.  
\- Regina Spektor, Samson  
  
  
  
  
His top generals are a bunch of idiots. Sam cleans his hands with a cloth, scrunching his nose at the bloodstains all over his once-upon-a-time pristine, white suit. His tie is literally soaked with blood, but that probably is due to Sam bending over his top general while ripping his heart out. Not Sam's brightest move.  
  
The floor is equally covered in blood and Sam gives up to cleaning after a while that debauchery and goes back to the mahogany desk, sitting heavily on his luxurious chair.  
  
When he took Hell he hadn't idea how much work his own demons would give him, especially since Sam started his battle against Heaven. The Righteous Man is who they're after, but of course they will never be able to put a hand on him or his soul; both of them belong to Sam and Sam alone.  
  
Sam throws the cloth on the floor, rubbing his temples with the circular, soothing movements of his fingers. The day was a wreck since from the start, when his hyperactive kids decided to interrupt Sam and his Consort's playtime bouncing on the bed and demanding pancakes (yes, that's definitely Sam's fault if he spoiled them with Dean's pancakes and his motherly treats, but really? During  _Sam's playtime_? He swears, sometimes he thinks his first-born does that on purpose).  
  
The door opens and Sam smiles immediately, his headache already fading away as soon as he spots his brother on the doorway. There he is, his brother, Consort, everything.  
  
Dean stopped ageing long ago, at his time of dying, when the hellhounds slaughtered him.  
  
He takes a look at the mess on the floor and raises an eyebrow. "That's nasty, Sammy."  
  
"They deserved it."  
  
"You said the same thing yesterday, and the day before that."  
  
"They  _all_  deserved it."  
  
Dean makes his way to Sam, careless of the blood, but careful to avoid traces of flesh, tentacles and other suspicious fluids. When he's next to the desk, Sam moves away the chair, in a silent invitation.  
  
"You need to find another way to blow off some steam," Dean's long fingers play with his tie, scraping the fine silk with his nail and leaving a long, straight line on the smooth fabric.  
  
Sam grabs Dean's mid-section, pulling him on his lap, he cups his ass over his jeans and massages the area. Seventy years passed since Dean went to Hell, but falling out of the habit is hard and Dean prefers wandering around in his tight jeans. Of course it doesn't happen when Dean is heavily pregnant and he throws a bitch fit every time someone points out that tight pants underline his waddling (he does waddle, but after the first demons were tortured for years on Dean's rack, no one dares to think about that). No, in that case, Dean wears a sexy silk gown that only adds a porny edge that screams of being ravished and fucked hard, especially when the belly is rotund and prominent. Every time Sam sees him wearing that gown he wants to strip him down and take him against the nearest available surface.  
  
"I have you," replies Sam, pulling Dean closer, his spread legs open even more and Sam can feel his erection starting to tend the coarse fabric. Such a slut for his attentions. "Your duty is to keep me entertained."  
  
"So it's my fault if you kill them." But Dean doesn't sound displeased.  
  
"I should have you at every meeting," Sam moves Dean forward and places his hands on Dean's thighs, his thumbs barely stroking his half-hard cock. "Spread out on my desk, while I order at this bunch of idiots about what to do. I'll be focused on pounding you and listening to your indecent screams of pleasure, instead of killing demons and splattering their blood on the floor."  
  
"You're such a bitch, Sammy."  
  
"You spoiled me." Sam chuckles. "Now, since we clarify that you're not doing your duty properly, you should make it up for it."  
  
A flicker of interest shines in Dean's green eyes while he gets on his knees in front of Sam's spread legs. He unbuttons his slacks, palming Sam's huge erection through the pants before freeing it. He licks his bottom lip and Sam wants nothing more than those perfectly plump lips around his cock, glistering with his pre-cum like if Dean had put some lip-gloss on them. But Sam waits, sure that Dean is going to do just that in a couple of minutes time.  
  
Usually Dean is all for teasing, kitten licks and coy looks at first, before deepthroating him past his gag reflex, but he had sensed the urge under Sam's skin and the last remnants of power that he used to smite his minions, so he puts aside his games for once. Despite most of the times Sam suspects he can die of blue balls for all Dean's teasing, he loves that aspect of him; his brother can be a total cock tease one minute, then a shameless cock slut the minute after, so responsive at every spank to his ass, caress on his skin or kiss to his lips. Dean is a slut for Sam's cock, his come and his touch.  
  
The devotion Dean showers him is somewhat heart-wrecking, but, unlike the past, now Sam can offer him something equally precious in return: his protection against everyone and everything that can undermine their happiness. A twisted version of a 'happily ever after', in Hell's terms.  
  
On Earth, Sam could offer Dean only his unconditional love, but they didn't have an apple pie life, constantly on the run from authorities, hunting and killing things hidden in the dark... love is not enough when dealing with things that are out of their reach. When Dean died and his soul was dragged to Hell, Sam didn't have a doubt. The thought of letting his brother go was inconceivable. Taking Hell and claiming it as his own was a tempting, tempting thought.  
  
Dean sold his soul for Sam, but Sam would do  _anything_  for Dean.  
  
When he reached him, Dean was one step away from breaking. Sam didn't care about prophecies and Lucifer's return, he cared about Dean. He let him off the rack, he offered him something - himself - and the position of 'Consort of the King of Hell' became Dean's.  
  
Neither of them regretted their decisions. But sometimes Sam catches Dean with a pensive look on his face; he often looks at his hands or his torture tools and his mind falters, going back years and decades to when he was a hunter and he protected people, not cutting them open.  
  
Sam isn't afraid of losing Dean. Nothing will take his place in his brother's heart and the little windows of indecision were normal. If Sam doesn't have them, it doesn't mean Dean, more kind-hearted and soft, couldn't have some set-backs. As long as he didn't think of leaving Sam or their kids or Hell.  
  
Seeing his Dean nestled between his legs pushes aside all his doubts. Dean's lips are stretched around the head of Sam's cock and Sam can feel his hot breath against his pubes. Dean's mouth is amazing, hot and tight like a glove, almost as good as his hole. His mouth is made for sucking cocks. Sam's cock.  
  
Sam's cock rests on Dean's tongue for a moment while the Consort gets used to the big intrusion in his mouth. Simultaneously, Dean's hands caresses Sam's balls, palming them and stroking the soft and sensitive skin, moving them, slow-building some kind of anticipation until Dean's starts sucking.  
  
"You're doing a good job," he twists Dean's hair in his hand, pressing his fingers against the scalp, longing to fuck Dean's mouth. Instead he relaxes, stretching his legs and watching his brother making such a good use of his lips and mouth, letting him to take care of him.  
  
Dean doesn't slow down, he sucks as much as his mouth could handle, making Sam groan, on the edge of his orgasm.  
  
"Wanna swallow?" He asks. "Wanna swallow my come like a well-behaved bitch? Or you want me to come all over your face and let you wander through the corridors where everybody can see you?" He traces the profile of his cock popping through Dean's stretched cheeks with his fingers, in wonder. "Nothing new, anyway."  
  
Dean half-closes his eyes, long eyelashes flutter and a shade of pink flushes his cheeks. Sam pushes his cock deeper in the willing mouth, Dean goes lax and pliant, swallowing his come with a pleased expression on his face, almost proud of himself. When Sam pulls back, Dean chases the tip of the cock with one last lick, then his tongue darts out to clean the come dribbling from the corner of his mouth.  
  
Sam's cock gives an weak twitch.  
  
"Better, now?" Dean's voice is hoarse, clearly fucked out.  
  
"Come here, bitch," Sam calls him affectionately, his hands shaking a little for the aftershocks of his orgasm. He doesn't bother to close his pants, as probably he'll be ready for another round soon, considering how debauched Dean looks right know.  
  
Dean stands up, the front of his jeans is stained with his own come, and returns to straddle Sam's knees, facing him. "You should be thankful I bend at your every whim."  
  
"Oh, you always bend alright, Dean. But sometimes I wonder if it's me who bends over your wishes." He nuzzles against Dean's throat, biting the soft and pulsing area enough to leave a mark.  
  
"It's you who scored a blowjob, Sammy."  
  
"Yeah, and you got off anyway, bitch."  
  
Dean meets Sam's lips, opens his mouth, swallowing Sam like the most starved and sinful of men. Sam tastes his own come, sticky and a bit salty, and he wraps his arms tightly around Dean, taking his time to map Dean's mouth and explore every corner, fucking his tongue in and out. That's fucking hot, plunging his tongue into Dean's mouth mimicking the rhythm of the fucking and damn, Sam is dying to plunge Dean's hole with his dick.  
  
Sam interrupts their kiss and bites hard at Dean's bottom lip, this time the skin breaks and Dean yelps when small drops of blood pours down the wound in to Sam's lips. Sam's tongue delves in that small cut, tasting fully the flavour of his brother's essence and the idea of mixing it with Sam's come and Dean's saliva is something too much enticing to let it pass.  
  
He pushes his tongue into Dean's mouth, tracing the edges of Dean's teeth before kissing him deeply. Dean arches under his touch, suffocating a moan in their joined mouths and Sam has had- enough; the taste of his brother in his mouth is enough to tear away Dean's pants and fuck him right there.  
  
"Bed," Dean manages to spit out between moans and kisses. "Bed now."  
  
"I'll bend you over the desk and fuck you, no need for roses and candles."  
  
Dean glares at him. "I'm not going to get fucked in a room that reeks of organs and blood. Send Bela to clean this mess and fuck me in our bedroom, before the kids get bored and demand our attention."  
  
When Sam rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers, laying Dean among the sheets of their bedroom, he has to admit that yes, he could be the King of Hell, but the Consort can bend him whenever he wants.  
  
And he has no problem with it.


End file.
